


Dress-Up

by wheel_pen



Series: Daisy [39]
Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Naughtiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 18:24:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elena and Daisy are assigned costumes by Mrs. Lockwood for a party, and Stefan and Damon are nervous. “Wow. Hmm. You dressed as a giant piece of biscotti. I may need therapy now.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dress-Up

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Daisy, my original character, moved to Mystic Falls about a year ago. There is something special about her.
> 
> 2\. This series begins with the first season of the TV show and completely diverges about halfway through the first season. Facts revealed later on the show might not make it into this series.
> 
> 3\. Underage warning: This series may contain human or human-like teenagers, in high school, in sexual situations.
> 
> 4\. The bad words are censored. That’s just how I do things.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this AU. I own nothing and appreciate being able to play in this universe.

            “Stop fidgeting,” Stefan commanded his brother.

            “I’m not moving,” Damon protested, a dangerous whine in his tone.

            Stefan sighed and changed his own position where he leaned against the pavilion railing. “I can see you twitching,” he claimed. “It makes me fear you’re about to break into a dance number.”

            “I’m about to break _something_ ,” Damon muttered, giving in and starting to pace.

            “Stop, come on,” Stefan encouraged, taking his arm. “We’re just waiting for our girlfriends to finish getting dressed. It’s perfectly normal.”

            “It’s not normal,” Damon countered contrarily. “They’re getting dressed in _costumes_. What if Daisy comes out dressed like… a giant cup of coffee, and I have to take a giant cup of coffee to the dance?”

            “You worry about weird things,” Stefan assessed. “Would you be embarrassed to be seen with her?”

            “No.” That was what Stefan would’ve guessed. Damon did not embarrass easily. “But I’d feel dumb not wearing a costume, too. If Daisy was a giant cup of coffee, I could go as a giant piece of biscotti.”

            Stefan blinked. “Wow. Hmm. You dressed as a giant piece of biscotti. I may need therapy now.” Damon made a face at him. “Elena _did_ say she didn’t _like_ the costumes,” he noted a few moments later, unable to let it drop either.

            “Maybe it’s Princess Leia’s gold bikini outfit,” Damon suggested hopefully.

            “You’d make a perfect Jabba the Hutt,” Stefan deadpanned.

            “Maybe it’s green—“ They both kept glancing towards the back door of the Mayor’s mansion and saw the figure who emerged simultaneously.

            Katherine. Civil War-era dress straight from _Gone with the Wind_ , huge skirt, tiny waist, bare shoulders, her hair curled and bouncing lightly as she walked down the garden path towards them. If her expression seemed somewhat off, more baleful than they remembered, it didn’t register. They were too busy staring, tense and shocked, minds rapidly working through all the havoc she’d caused and might cause again.

            Instinctively Damon’s hand reached out and gripped Stefan’s arm—whether the gesture was meant to protect or restrain wasn’t clear, but Stefan appreciated it. His brother’s touch was the only thing that broke Katherine’s spell over him, allowed him to look around for the bystanders who might be harmed—and to see the complex mix of desire and loathing playing across Damon’s face. With his other hand Stefan reached over and grabbed Damon’s arm in turn, shaking him back to the present.

            She stopped in front of them, her expression mortified. “I’m so sorry,” she began, which was not a phrase Katherine had ever used. “It was Mrs. Lockwood’s idea, she said she wanted everything to be historically accurate, and since I volunteered for the committee I didn’t think I could—“

            Damon seized her arm suddenly with his free hand. “She has a pulse,” he declared. He stepped intrusively into her personal space. “And she smells like you.”

            Stefan sagged with relief. “Holy s—t,” he said unexpectedly, leaning heavily on the pavilion railing for a moment.

            “I’m sorry,” Elena said again in a small voice and Damon let her go.

            Stefan immediately embraced her, careful of not just her human frame but also her clothes and hair, which had no doubt taken hours to assemble. “It’s okay, sweetie, it’s okay,” he told her soothingly, as much for himself as for her. “I’m sorry I—“ Well, he really hadn’t done anything bad. He kissed her temple, inhaling the scent he knew so well, mixed with his own. It was reassuring.

            “G-----n, I’m having more flashbacks than a Vietnam vet with a bowl of rice,” Damon declared tastelessly, which at least broke the tension somewhat.

            “It’s horrible,” Elena agreed despondently as Stefan continued to stroke her warm skin lightly. “All the people on the committee have to dress in ‘period appropriate’ clothes, and it’s so hot, and I _really_ can’t breathe in this corset—“

            “Oh, here, I can adjust that for you,” Stefan offered eagerly, reaching around behind her back. “The secret is to loosen every third stay, so your lungs get a little more room without visibly changing the silhouette—“ Elena stared at him.

            “I taught him that,” Damon claimed.

            “Where’s your pendant?” Stefan asked suddenly, noting the absence of the vervain-filled ornament.

            Elena’s expression remained glum. “Mrs. Lockwood said it didn’t go with the dress,” she explained. “I’ve got it wrapped around my wrist, though,” she added, holding it up to show him. “I put the pendant part in this little purse thing so it wouldn’t show. You think it will still—“

            “F—k,” Damon said suddenly, staring over her shoulder towards the house.

            “F—k,” Stefan agreed, following his gaze. This time _he_ was the one to grab his brother’s arm, watching his expression closely as Daisy approached, wearing what was doubtless supposed to be an era-appropriate slave’s outfit—a serviceable, unremarkable dress complete with apron and a scarf around her hair. “Damon?” Stefan shook his brother’s arm, slightly worried. Katherine walking towards them was somehow not as potentially damaging as the specter of Chicken Sally, though of course Daisy didn’t resemble her exactly.

            “I know, it’s awful,” Elena said, agreeing with the wrong sentiment. “Mrs. Lockwood _did_ say the non-white girls could wear dresses like mine, but she also had slave outfits available, _conveniently_. It’s so _tacky_. And—someone might sue.”

            “I had to sign a form,” Daisy reported dryly, taking Damon’s hand when she got close enough. “You feel a little clammy, baby,” she observed. “Have you eaten today? You want me to fix you something?”

            “St—mm—I—argh,” Damon replied inarticulately. He seemed to find looking at her both fascinating and painful.

            “Damon? Are you okay?” Stefan checked, as Elena glanced between them quizzically.

            “Well—um—clearly I can’t dance with you, dressed like that,” he finally sputtered. “Slaves weren’t allowed on the dance floor.”

            Daisy smirked. “Well maybe we could sneak off to the barn later,” she suggested coyly. “I’m sure you have some fantasies that are suddenly inexplicably appropriate.”

            “F—k,” Damon repeated helplessly, before grabbing Daisy and kissing her. Stefan finally let him go, seeing no way of preventing the impending nervous breakdown himself. Maybe Daisy had a method.

            “What’s--?” Elena started to ask.

            “I’ll tell you later,” Stefan promised. His hand went to her shoulder and his fingers brushed against the pulse in her neck, triple-checking its rhythm. This was going to be a long evening for all of them.

            Mrs. Lockwood popped up suddenly, with the stealth and speed to startle distracted vampires. “Ah, the Salvatore brothers. Just who I was looking for.” Her tone was somehow both cheerful and sinister. Damon even broke off kissing Daisy to watch her warily.

            “The garden looks beautiful, ma’am,” Stefan struggled, his manners kicking in full-force to counteract his brother’s suspicious glare. “I like all the—plants.”

            She acknowledged the compliment like a pro. “You know, you boys could really help me out,” she told them in what was obviously supposed to be a tone of silky persuasion. “I’m two soldiers short, and I’ve got a couple of uniforms I think might fit you. Come on, what do you say?” The boys gaped at her, unprepared.

            “Oh, uh, I don’t really—“ Elena tried to demur.

            “I’m a conscientious objector,” Stefan blurted suddenly.

            “I’m a deserter,” Damon confessed at the same time.

            Awkward silence followed. “Well, someone started drinking a little early this evening,” Daisy suggested lightly. “Maybe you’d better check that punch, Mrs. Lockwood, in case someone’s spiked it again.”

            “Yes, that sounds like a good idea,” she decided, eyeing the boys as if they were now the number one suspects for ruining her gathering.

            They didn’t relax until she was gone. “You boys are so smooth, you give James Bond a run for his money,” Daisy teased.

            “She caught me at a vulnerable moment,” Damon claimed, going back to nuzzling Daisy’s neck, which was clearly more for his own comfort than anything else.

            “I think I have to stay for a while,” Elena said reluctantly. “But I would understand if you didn’t want to—“

            “No, no, we’re fine,” Stefan assured her, forcing a smile to his face. “ _I’m_ fine,” he corrected pointedly, giving Damon’s shoulder a shake to prompt him.

            “I’m not really fine,” Damon admitted. “But I think I shouldn’t be at home alone right now.”

            “Yeah,” Stefan agreed. He leaned forward and sniffed Elena’s hair again. “Sorry,” he added sheepishly.

            She sighed, vowing to make this lost evening up later. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”


End file.
